A Hand to Hold
by Aimlessly Unknown
Summary: A compilation of Doctor and Rose drabbles.
1. bury me in satin

_Guess what song this is based off of_!

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><p>"Make me into a rainbow." She asks. Her voice is pleading; low, like sandpaper on her throat, scratching its way to the surface.<p>

He asks why, asks why she wants to be a rainbow instead of a bird, her favourite animal; she doesn't ask how He knows that, doesn't need to, he knows why she wants to be a rainbow. He knows everything.

But she answers anyway, "So my mother knows I'm safe. When she stands under my colours, she'll know I'm safe with you."

That isn't it at all. He knows this. She knows this. She wants to be eternal, forever, she wants to be forever in the stars with him. She'll look over earth, look over the people she knows forever and when they die she'll be waiting. She wants to see him, just once more. She becomes a promise she can keep.

Her colours are bright and beautiful in the sky that isn't truly her own sky, but she exists in both planes so it is forgiven, and watches her mother.

'_Life is cruel'_ she thinks '_it's_ _not gray at all when she buries her baby, when she buries _me.'

The Doctor – another image, another supernova, heartbreak at it's most potent – looks up to the sky that stole Rose, sees a rainbow burn as bright as a sun, and smiles for reasons he will never know.

Twenty feet away Jackie Tyler buries Rose.

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><p>Alright, so this is my attempt at a few drabbles for DW - based on the relationships the Doctor had with Rose with a few Martha, Donna introspective's. And, if I'm particularly smashed from romance novels, a couple JackDonna fics.

Onward!

Aimlessly Unknown.


	2. hide and seek

Enjoy!

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><p>He goes looking for it one day. He has a new face – finally ginger! – and he wants to show her. To show her room at least. He is more respectful now, kinder in ways he wasn't before, and less likely to kill. It was her influence; he's sure of it.<p>

He goes searching and can't find it. He has always known that the TARDIS gets rid of rooms of companions when they go – _wipe away the reminders, my Child_ the ship hums _you must push on and they are shackles_ – but this is Rose; the ship loved Rose, loves Rose, and must have kept it.

He searches.

* * *

><p>He tries again months later; it takes hours on end and still he cannot find it. He asks the ship where it is, please move it closer, come now TARDIS let's not be childish, I don't like this, show me, tell me, <em>TARDIS<em>!

He cannot find.

* * *

><p>Months later his new companion will step into the console room, her eyes wide and the tattoo of the Celtic symbol for thunder staining her wrist, asking what lies behind the door with the gold paint.<p>

He sprints to find it, but it is not there. _Shackles_ the ship reminds him.

Still he searches and still he cannot find.

* * *

><p>On the brink of death on his final regeneration – ginger gone blonde and kindness turned to scorn – he leans against the wall of the TARDIS, dying around him, and sees a room with a rose painted on it.<p>

The TARDIS makes sense now that he's dying, she is a shackle, something to link him to the world, to hold him back from his purpose – he can't save the world if he mourns his love – and soon enough he will see his Rose again (long since died, he watched her funeral with that damn rainbow). He sees the door that meant love and kindness.

Everything fades to black and death as his hand clutches the knob.

* * *

><p>Poor Doctor, can't find his love's door. Ain't the TARDIS just a<em> bitch<em>? Oh well!

Aimlessly Unknown


	3. off limits

Because not all drabbles of mine are long. But hopefully they are still powerful.

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><p>She is led around the TARDIS, watching as the alien shows her rooms and knowing she'll never remember them. He turns back to her with a grin and points out a room he likes to call the 'Moon Room' and tells her she'll find out why soon enough.<p>

But they pass another room on the way. A gold door with a bright white rose on it. She asks what it is, why is it there, is it hers? But he doesn't look at her.

He tells her never to go in and she will never forget the look in his eyes as he said it.

Somewhere in the back of her mind there is a sob and a howl.

* * *

><p>Er... review?<p>

Aimlessly Unknown


	4. role reversal

"HOLD ON!" Your heart hurts as the love of your life falls ever closer to the Void. Their eyes scream, everything about them screams _save me_, but their eyes, their beautiful brown eyes, scream the loudest and burn you on the inside.

Your own screams get more desperate, "PLEASE! PLEASE HOLD ON! PLEASE, SOMEONE _SAVE THEM_!"

But no one will. There's nothing to hold onto anymore, just air and hope but even that is lost.

You can feel your heart break inside your chest.

Staring in utter horror, aching desperation, Rose Tyler watches as the Doctor is swallow up by the Void.


	5. hard question to ignore

"_Are you hurting_?" It asks as Gallifrey burns.

His heart is silent, like his dying people.

"_Are you hurting_?" It asks again as he regenerates.

His heart merely changes.

"_Are you hurting_?" It asks, louder now that Reinette is dead (_youhumansdecay_).

His heart stutters a bit in his chest but does not reply.

"_Are you hurting_?" It asks as Rose disappears forever. Gone like his planet, like his old self, and leaves a gaping whole too large for even the Universe to fill.

'**Yes**!' His heart wails as it breaks.


	6. don't walk away

The Void pulls Rose in. It is quick, no fuss, jus a pair of eyes then nothing. An echo perhaps, but nothing solid because she's gone. No one comes to save her, not Pete Tyler or Mickey. She's dead. Straight into Hell.

The Doctor doesn't touch the wall because Rose isn't on the other side. She's _dead_. Sucked into a Hell she didn't deserve.

Behind him the wall glows gold for a moment but he doesn't see. He can't see. He's turned away because to stare at the wall is to stare at terror and pain and he can't handle it. Not without his Rose.

It spells out _Iloveyou_ as the Doctor walks away.


	7. no words to describe

The Doctor makes up words, Donna swears it.

Sometimes they play Scrabble (_a ridiculously human game_ the doctor whines sometimes, but only sometimes because donna thinks he loves the game anyways, if only to show off his intelligence) and the Doctor always wins. He plays words like _fragjous _(it means forever according to the Doctor), _ahfowt_ (something does not seem right – a rather long definition), and _ethpe_ (broken inside).

(something inside Donna tells her that he is describing his life after Rose)

But there are two words that the Doctor uses often. As if they were his name. As if they were living, breathing companions that he needed to acknowledge. He likes these words, likes to whisper them in the middle of the night as if caressing the word itself. She knows because she listens to him sometimes at night, the Lonely God sitting - perched, rather - on his chair and whispering to himself because no one else is awake (to his knowledge).

Jack doesn't know what the words mean either – he's never heard of him but he looks them up for her (She does not know how to pronounce them, but she can guess on the spelling.), bless him, and yet it yields no results. Even in the Xenolinguist dictionary.

It burns her sometimes that she doesn't know what they mean.

Jack comes into her room one night (a more common occurrence she notes as he dives under the sheets with her) and tells her what they mean. She asks him how he knew and he tells her that he asked – _a truly revolutionary tactic, my love_ he teases as she swats at him.

"So what does it mean?" Her eyes are excited and she can barely sit still.

Jack's entire face become somber and despondent, "How he felt about Rose and how he felt when she was taken." (never left, never gone, just taken because it wasn't by choice and to say anything else would just be wrong).

The next day Donna asks him how he felt when she was taken.

The Doctor smiles angrily – it is an odd look, "Jack told you, eh?"

She nods silently.

The Doctor sighs, "Think of it this way, Donna, think of it like you're breathing. Like you inhale and exhale, like you just trot along with all this air in your lungs, bouncing about and being generally fantastic. Then imagine not. Don't imagine slowly stopping or holding your breath for as long as you can; just stop. Stop as if all the air in your body has been torn viciously away – as if you just stop breathing and can't start again."

Donna imagines it, and her heart aches inside her chest.

"That's how it felt." He whispers softly, turning to walk away; but Donna knows how to make this right.

"How did it feel when she was here?" She asks, trying to bring back the kind memories and feelings rather than the ones she has wrought.

There is a smile in his voice, "It's like you've discovered yourself. It's like looking at yourself in the mirror and discovering a smile you thought you lost. It was – it _is_ – the best feeling in the world because you can look at them and they know you and love you all the same. It's feeling like you're home. It's seeing her first thing in the morning and wishing – for all your Time Lordy-ness – that you could freeze time right there."

Donna doesn't understand his love – Jack's love is like a fire, like a hurricane in her chest – but the Doctor needs a soothing love. He needs someone to trust him implicitly – and still have the smarts to haul him up by the ear, at least when he's being ridiculous.

He turns to face her, "She was the one love I couldn't hold onto. The one promise I never got to keep."

That night Donna sits in bed with Jack, crying for the forever the Doctor and Rose never got to have.


	8. tattoo on my heart

"The TARDIS has a tattoo! The TARDIS has a tattoo!" Amy sang, dancing through the hallway of the TARDIS – her feet lithe and graceful on the floor. Rory and the Doctor, poking their heads out of the kitchen, stared at the dancing Scot as if she had grown a third leg, a second head, and was made out of spam. Rory smiled softly at his wife, still maintaining the look of 'she's an absolute nutter'; but the Doctor stared at her as if she had committed blasphemy.

"What do you mean 'the TARDIS has a tattoo'?" He asked; an eyebrow in the dangerous territory of meeting his hairline.

"Well," Amy began cheekily, "Idris has a tattoo but since she's the TARDIS I believe it is the TARDIS that has the tattoo!"

"She's got the TARDIS' matrix; she's not a humanized TARDIS. At least in the sense you're thinking of." The Doctor corrected, feeling soothed by logic rather than befuddled by Amy's odd statement. But the red-head merely shook her head happily.

"Nope, because I asked her what it was and she said Gallifreyan! She also said that she's had it for seven-hundred years and you've just been too spastic to notice it!" Amy teased, shaking a finger at the Doctor in a mock-disapproving way. The Doctor rolled his eyes, stalking off to find Idris and sort this whole thing out – and, by that, he meant prove that he was right. As usual.

He found her in the console room, sitting beside – well – herself. Staring intently at her he almost didn't notice her speak.

"See something interesting?" She asked, her body curving towards him. He smiled.

"I see something beautiful."

"Been practicing your pick-up lines, have you?" She asked softly, a smile on her face. As she turned to face him he noticed the line of black on her shoulder – like a circle.

"Only on you, Sexy." He joked, "So what's this about a tattoo?"

She laughed, "I knew there was an ulterior motive here."

"I don't _always_ have an ulterior motive!" He groused. She shook her head warmly.

"No, no you don't. It's one of the things I love about you." Her taffy-face stretched into a larger smile, "But yes, I have a tattoo."

"Can I see it?" He asked moving to sit next to her. She turned her back to him, shrugging down her shirt just enough for him to see the tattoo. The dark stain formed a circle with curlicue writing inside of it – Gallifreyan cursive – and it spelled one word. The Doctor gaped and snarled all at once, his fingers hovering just above the mark.

The tips of his fingers ghosted over her skin but she didn't shiver. This wasn't sensual, this was something deeper. This was anguish. The dark mark burned her skin but it wasn't anything compared to the Doctor's vicious hatred – nearly tangible in its amount – aimed at the mark.

He was nearly speechless (_so it _can_ happen_! a familiar but long ignored voice rang).

When he found his voice all he could choke out was, "Why?"

"Because," She didn't turn to him but the console glowed gold for a moment, "she was part of me, Doctor. And I was a part of her. She defended my Child, my love, and I will always be thankful. But also Doctor; I wanted you to remember her.

"I wanted you to realize that you've spent so much time trying to forget that the only part you've forgotten is why you should have remembered."

His digits pressed hard against her skin, tracing the rune as if it was a precious stone. A reverential thing that should be worshipped from head to toe – or, rather, top to bottom. He noticed that, even in his new body, he had not forgotten the curve of her name. He had spent many a day trying to teach her the way to write it. So long ago. The curve of the word was coded in his changing-DNA, the only constant. Her name.

"Where is it written in the ship?" He asked, his voice was low and rough.

"On a place that can be both in and out of this ship – a gentle place that fills with love every time it sees her, every time it sees me." She told him, and though he could not see them, he imagined her dark eyes looking forever wise. So reminiscent of a larger pair of dark, full eyes that pulled him in, before they got pulled in.

"_Where_?" He asked, he had to know. Had to know, had to get rid of it, no reminders he told himself. None. He couldn't live with himself if he had a reminder of his error.

"On your hearts." She whispered.

The one place he couldn't cleanse.

He took one last time to trace the lines, knowing them so well, and pulled her shirt up to cover it. With one last sigh he stepped away and walked out of the console room.

He made it all the way to his room before falling to his knees. He lay there, choked up by tears and regret, burning from the inside-out from something worse than regeneration. He took one heaving breath and exhaled the word on her skin as if all the love in his lifetime had been formed around the word.

"_Rose_." He croaked as the first tear fell.


	9. physician, hate thyself

Eleven hates Ten.

Not only for the stupid suits (fezzes are cooler).

Not for the anger and angst. (too much rage, too much hurt inside that radiates outward).

For the stupid rants he used to go into. (he does the same, but he needs to, the keep away the nightmares and the words are his warriors).

Not for the way he swanned off when it got too hard to handle. (run away! run away from all the goodness that you need! keep running!)

He hates Ten. He could hate him for so many reasons but only one truly makes the anger burn inside.

Ten turned around.

Turned his back on love and forever and the promise of hope; Ten walked away from Rose Tyler.

(_stole his chance to hold rose tyler's hand, stole his first kiss with his little human, stole his chance to hold her tightly against his new body, stole his chance for hugs and warmth, stole the world from underneath his feet_)

And Eleven can never forgive him for that.


	10. the smell of a rose

He spends a lot of time in Rose's room. Sometimes he just lays there and breathes in the scent of her citrus shampoo and the sweet smell of pure Rose – something that can never be recreated. Other days he rages and storms, yelling to the gods '_GIVE HER BACK_! _SHE WAS MINE_!'. He cries out when there is no sound but his own empty screams and the knowledge that she is probably dead in her own Universe. Or perhaps, she is happy.

Perhaps she does not think of him because she has him – the tenth him, sure enough, but it is him. People like to think that he changes with his regeneration – that his emotions shift to fit this new body of his; but it is a lie. He is the same man. Always.

And this same man spends time in Rose's room.

He enters the room slowly, careful not to let even a glimpse of it escape into the hallway, where he might be forced to share Rose with Amy and Rory.

He can't share her. She is his and she will always be his.

He notices immediately. The smell of the room has changed – shifted in a way. It was as if the essence of Rose had been sucked out of it and all that was left was the stale odor of loss and regret. He stops, frozen in time, in the past, and in the future all at once. He inhales deeply, trying to recall the smell, to tell his brain that it's just taken a while for the smell to reach him.

But that is not true. The TARDIS above whirrs gently, whispering apologies but the smell was too much to try to recreate over and over again. It had no reference – Rose's shampoo, a key part of the smell, was gone. It's so sorry. It tells him to please be calm, to keep a level head, they will fix it.

But the Doctor hears none of it. Not a word. All he knows is that Rose is gone. Permanently. That her smell has left with his hearts, that he now has _nothing_. Nothing but adventures without fun and a space in his hand fitted only for hers.

He rages. He storms. He becomes the monster in the monster's nightmares. He breaks all of Rose's room because now there is nothing and the pictures of them clatter to the floor, broken across her large smile – cracked along his loving grin. They are worthless. Gone. Forever gone in the Universe that is not his. But the perfume sits on the counter, unable to be broken by his hands. He can't do it. He picks up the bottle, holding it lovingly, as if it was Rose herself.

'_Chanel rose_' the bottle says with a bright pink rose blooming underneath the black words.

He holds her bottle of perfume to his shaking chest and breathes in the smell of rose that really isn't Rose at all.


	11. new body, new insecurities

The Doctor wonders if Rose would like his new body.

Would she think he was too tall? Would she hate his hair? His bowtie? Would she look at him and wonder exactly where the man she loved went? Does Rose Tyler love him even with his newly greened eyes, with his floppy black hair, with his broken hearts?

Would she love the TARDIS now that it's new? Would she still want to have her room next to his own, even now that he snores lightly?

Would Rose Tyler love the Eleventh Doctor as much as she loved the Ninth and Tenth – he wonders.

And inside he knows Rose Tyler would love him no matter what.

Even if he'll never get the chance to test it out.


	12. i could really use a wish

"What would you ever wish for, Doctor?" Amy asks incredulously, her long red hair twined back into a French Braid by an actual French woman in _France_. Rory stands beside her, hand locked in hers like they were meant to be –

(he was like that once upon a time)

– together forever. The look on Rory's face matches his wife's spot-on. They both look disbelieving and have looked disbelieving ever since their adventure with a Wish-Granter. Personally, the Doctor thinks the woman was just a gypsy that got _very _lucky with Amy's wish to have a necklace for Rory (whom promptly complained about having to wear jewelry but did anyways for his Amy).

The Doctor – arriving back at the TARDIS – expressed distaste for wishes but a secret desire to make one. Amy had been rather confused. Thus leading to her question.

It seems almost inconceivable to them that the Doctor would want something because he seems to have everything – a way to travel between times and worlds and forever having companions –

(never thinking how much it hurts to have and to hold only to lose)

– with him on his journeys.

"I don't know." He says jovially, brushing them off to their room while he fixes some stuff on the TARDIS – he promises when he's done with all his boring stuff he'd get them.

As they turn away there is an echo, '_One last day with your beloved, which day would you choose_?'

He turns to where Amy and Rory just bounded away to. He would choose forever, everyday, forever, because he needs forever if he's going to even _try_. He burned up a sun for her but he can't get forever no matter how hard he tries. He would just wish for one thing. One thing and that's all he needs.

He presses his hand against his chest, "I'd wish for forever with my Rose."


	13. lay down your grief

Five days after black (_burninggrief_) and red (_angerpain_shewasmine) collide to form white and a hole that pullspullspulls the Doctor finally feels the weight. He felt a moment of it, a moment where _roseisgone_ finally hits him in the hearts and burns his spirit from the inside out. He had pressed a desperate hand against the wall, as if trying by sheer will alone to push aside the walls of the Universe and get Rose back, and thought that to be the worst. The sudden breaking of his heart as it is ripped from his chest and pulled into the Void.

But, oh, how wrong he is.

It takes five days, 120 hours, 7200 minutes, 432000 seconds, and a blink of his Time Lord eye for him to break. It is not the bowl of roses on his nightstand that breaks him, it is not the shirt in Donna Noble's angry hand, or the picture he has in his room, but it is the bright flare of gold along the edges of the TARDIS' console.

Gold. The Bad Wolf's eyes blazing like fire and heat and pain as she destroys the Dalek Emperor. She was the Bad Wolf for him, she became _Time_ for him. Rose Tyler: Bad Wolf. She was the Bad Wolf…she was the bloody _BAD WOLF_ and she's _KILLED BY A VOID_?

ROSE TYLER WAS KILLED BY A VOID AND SHE DESTROYED THE DALEKS? SHE _WIPED OUT_ THEIR PITIFUL EXISTENCE AND SHE'S TAKEN BY A VOID, BY HER _FATHER_ INTO A PARALLEL WORLD?

The Doctor suddenly feels all the weight of his anger, of his loss and he hits his knees. Tears come faster now, more willingly, as if all the grief in his world had been shaped around this defeat. He can't breathe for all the sadness in his lungs, choking and pulling until all he can taste are tears and the brokenness of his spirit.

"Rose, Rose, Rose, Rose, Rose," He cries, slamming his fists against the grating of the TARDIS, "Please, Rose, Rose, please.

"_Come back_." He croaks.

"I need you," He whispers, as if she can – through all the walls and cracks of time and space – hear his pleas, "I need you so much. My Shiver, my Lewis, my Dame, my _Rose_, please! Please come _back_."

On the TARDIS floors, five days after defeating his mortal enemies, the Doctor curls up in a ball and mourns his Rose.


	14. ideas of forever

"What do you think of forever?" He asks one day, turning to Amy and the half-asleep Rory. The red-headed woman breathes in deeply, stares down at her husband's face, and smiles fondly. He waited so long and she had no idea. The tears falling down her face without reason felt so bitter, so angry. Like she _should_ remember why she was so upset. Remember the big eyes. Recall the soft hair and the sweet smell of citrus when Rory cuddles her close in the arms that were frozen for centuries. She wishes she could make it up to him, so badly, but she can't. (She'll be damned if she doesn't try though).

"I think forever is only worth it with someone you love." She says gently. He nods knowingly and tucks his head against his chest, leaning back against the sofa in order to fall asleep.

Amy, so very used to their meaningful conversations before bed, looks over at the sleeping alien, "Doctor?"

There is silence.

"Doctor?" She tries again, her voice rising in pitch as if that will rouse the Time Lord.

He blinks open only one eye and stares curiously at Amy, "You know I don't actually sleep, right? So you don't actually have to whisper."

Amy flushes but continues, "So, what's with the forever questions?"

"Nothing at all, just wanted your opinion really." He murmurs, rising to his feet, and strutting out of the room. Leaving Amy and Rory to snuggle on the couch and sleep – even though they really should be in bed, rather than the couch, it will give them terrible cricks. But the Doctor recalls moments where he was curled up on the couch with his little human and watching her sleep soundly.

"'Only with someone you love', eh?" He ponders gently.

He guesses forever isn't so great.

(not without his Rose)


	15. home of the legends

"Come on, Doctor!" Rose implores, pulling her hair back into a tight bun, "I want to go home!"

The Doctor looks curious for a moment, they had just _come_ from Jackie's not ten moments ago – Rose had spent the day with her Mum in order to make sure that Jackie didn't feel left out of their adventures. The Doctor – personally – could have done without it. It wasn't that he didn't like Jackie – he did, he truly did – it was just she was so overbearing, bothering his Rose to come _home_ to where she _belonged_.

The Doctor scorns those words, Rose _belonged_ with him. Where ever he was she should also be. She belonged to him – well, that's not quite right and he doubts Rose would appreciate belonging to _anyone_. But if she was going to belong to anyone it would be with _him_. Not that he would ever tell her that. Lest she leave. Which was, quite simply, not allowed. Not his Rose. Not leaving him. Because she was _forever_.

"Doctor? Doctor!" Rose calls, tugging on his jacket sleeve. He shakes free of his reverie and twines his fingers in hers, smiling brightly.

"Yes, Rose?" He asks.

"Goodness, you're so spacey today." She teases.

He chuffed, "Well, I _do_ live in space! As a matter of fact, so do you! You're spacey Rose Tyler – just as spacey as me."

She gives him that smile he loves, the one where her tongue pokes out of her teeth and it's the look that says 'kiss me' but he _can't_ and it hurts him inside to stare at those lips and never know the feel of them. Never know the exact way they curve against his.

"Well, Mr. Spacey, let's go home then." She says, tugging him away.

"But Rose," He wonders, "We've just come from your home."

She gives him an odd look, the one just usually delivered just before he does something stupid, "No we haven't, Doctor."

"Yes, yes we have Rose. We've just come from your Mum's." He says, "I know we did. I may not be able to fly the TARDIS quite as well as I would like – !"

"HAH! You admit it!" She giggles.

"– but I know your Mum's when I'm there. The stench of her perfume is quite memorable." He finishes.

In that moment, something changes, and Rose Tyler leans up and presses her lips against his softly. His reaction is instantaneous, his hands clutch at her hips like they're his lifeline and he presses back. Then he tilts his head at just the right angle and soft groan tears itself from her throat.

She pulls away, panting, "Sorry, you just – you looked so _adorable_."

"I am sexy, I am gorgeous, I am handsome, but I am _not_ adorable." He says.

"However, I must warn you," His voice drops an octave, down to a rumble befitting a thunderstorm, "if we don't get back to the TARDIS soon I believe we'll be arrested for public indecency."

"Then let's go home." She whispers against the hollow of his throat.

"Rose!" The Doctor's face is aghast, "I am not spending our first glorious time together – and it will be glorious – at your Mum's house!"

"Doctor!" Rose exclaims, "When I say _home_, I don't mean my Mum's! I mean the TARDIS!"

"The TARDIS is your home?" His voice is incredulous but it's also warm. It made the cockles of his hearts burn that Rose thought of the TARDIS as her home as well. Their home. Their home, together, forever. The Doctor and Rose Tyler. The way it should be.

"If you'll let it be." Her voice takes on a sudden quietness, nervousness. As if he was going to reject the idea of it being her home. Her, as a human – withering slowly, being presumptuous enough to think of the wonderful TARDIS as her home.

"I want it to be!" He assures her. He wants it to be her home. To be the place for her to go back to because it _is_ hers – the TARDIS thinks of Rose as hers and the Doctor thinks of Rose as his and they all belong to one another because that's the way it is. Any other way is _wrong_.

She breathes a sigh of relief, "Good then! Let's go home Doctor."

"Yes. Let's go home." His hand squeezes hers tightly and they walk off towards the TARDIS, together.

They didn't leave the TARDIS for a good while after that.


	16. fighting a losing battle

He doesn't know how he got her back. She refuses to tell him how or, even, _when_ she really got back; for months now he's seen glimpses of her and thought them dreams and now he isn't sure. But he knows she's here. In his arms, wrapped up like the best gift he's ever gotten in soft cloth and warm skin. Purely Rose smells rising from that warm skin until it feels like an inferno on his skin.

He wants to crow to the stars, to the gods, and tell them to _just try to take her_! But he can't and he won't because they _will_. They will try and he will fight desperately against them because he can't lose her again. They will hurl fire and death and aliens at the duo and hope one hits because the Doctor can't be happy. He can't. But he can_ fight_. He can rail against them and twist Time and Space to his will.

He can put it off until Rose is ready to go. Even if he's not ready to let her go.

"How long are you going to stay with me?" He asks again, pulling her warm body closer.

There is a bittersweet smile pressing against his skin from her lips, "As long as you want me."

His ghost of a smile whispers _forever_ but he cannot say it. Because that is a challenge. And he's not sure he'll win that one. Because the world is cruel, a vicious place with vicious people burning up the atmosphere with their gases and he can fight against aliens but not the world.

He can't fight the Universe for her even if he would be willing to try.


	17. the silence screams

They never speak when they come to him.

All open mouths and broken teeth; black tongues and white eyes; the stretch of their lips until it can only be a dream because no one's mouth opens like that. He watches them unhinge, their phantom selves, floating past him as if he didn't once show them all they could never dream of.

Sometimes he dreams of Martha and her sad smile, the way she lived in the shadows of another.

Sometimes he dreams of Donna, those dreams are bright and crackling with wit turned straight into the look of begging and agony as she burned.

Sometimes he dreams of Jack and Rose. He dreams of the Trio. He dreams of innuendo and jokes turned fighter – turned strong. He dreams of blonde and love turned screams and open spaces – turned broken. He dreams of jokes and '_Rickey-boy_' with daft ears and leather jackets. He dreams of a life where he wasn't quite as pretty, wasn't quite as happy, but was so very, very lucky because he had them.

But mostly he dreams of pretty-boys. He dreams of pinstripes. He dreams of blonde hair and broken promises. He dreams of a tongue between teeth and the ability he had to get so very close to warmth. He dreams of longing looks and _so close_ before stumbling back into the waking world. He dreams of Rose Tyler.

And when he wakes he is broken. So broken; because this family – Amy, Rory, and River – are not the right family – his Jack, his _Rose_ – they take up room where Jack (eternal) and Rose (human, his human) should be.

He doesn't love them – Team Hipster, they call themselves, a joke – any less for it.

So he holds to his dreams; all he has now are the ghosts.


	18. delusions of the heart

He wonders if he made her up.

No one in the world is that perfect and no one could be. The rest of the world was dull and dreary, full of broken dreams and people who had long forgotten to hope. She was bright; so bright, a girl with enough dreams for everyone, who hoped for impossible things. She was glorious – befitting the perfect name, a name that would speak of all she was in a few small syllables. _The_ name; _her _name – but none could be such. None could fit all the hope and love in a name – there was nothing good enough.

But he'd gotten close enough.

" _Doctor, you need to sleep_." Her voice; like liquid honey and soft clouds washing over him.

Rolls over, resolutely ignoring the voice but it follows him everywhere.

" _Don't pout at me, Doctor, I know all about your Time Lord physiology and even you need sleep_." Scolding him now, she did that too, did it lovingly like no one else could; or would.

Sighs heavily, his breath should fan her face but it doesn't because she wasn't there.

When he sleeps he dreams of her. He wonders if she was a dream that he never woke up from. He wonders if she was real.

Then he finds her shirt; her pants; the dress she wore; her tea cups; and he knows. No one could make her up. No one could create her. If he did he wouldn't have lost her, she'd be right next to him, laughing and smiling up at him with her tongue between her teeth and twinkle in her eyes.

He wonders if he made her up.

He knows he never could.


	19. between the pages

Leonie finds his notebook buried under the mountains of clothing, mostly hers, in the Laundry Room of the TARDIS. It is not blue, like the TARDIS and his favourite suit, but it is a darkly shaded colour. One that's not quite black, but it's not navy or brown. It's a colour she doesn't know – perhaps one from a different world that she can't pronounce. A planet with singing cities, crying rivers, and cold tea; a place without injustice or too much to go around – perhaps they can visit one day. One very far off day from now – she has not yet found an ability to keep time on the ship, it could be March at home, or it could be December. It could be anytime she wants and that scares her because she doesn't know if she's going back or forward.

Only the Doctor does. The Doctor with his curious notebook that she can't help but clutch it as if he's about to walk in and snatch it from her, even if it is his in the first place.

"It wouldn't truly do much harm." She tells herself, opening it gently – only to slam it shut tightly, "Oh, but he could get very mad. Pinstripes never did have much patience."

Nibbling on her fingernails, she wonders if she should open it and take a peak. There is an internal war raging in her head but curiosity, as it usually does, wins out over logic.

The pages are soft, parchment-like, and there is a large inky blot over the page. As if he wasn't quite used to writing with the utensil he had used – a quill perhaps?

"Very Harry Potter, Pinstripes." She grins, "Knew you were a sucker for fantasy."

She turns the page, past the mess-up, and reads the words that have been scratched gently; clearly he was much more used to the pen by the time he got to this page. But the words were pressed close together, as if he couldn't complete a string of thought and had to get too many ideas down too fast.

_As a human—so many choices in every day—It's boring—Fell in lo—human girls are strange—My com—Odd dream—Joan—having children with a Time Lord—Was it even poss—Nope, wasn't enti—Lying every—not knowing it—holding a watch—was it better—wasn't the Doctor—identity crisis—Martha—TARDIS—past regenerations—future—finally forever?_

Leon has to turn the page every which way in order to make out most of his writings. In doing so, she knocks a piece of loose paper to the ground. It makes no sound as it hits the shirt she was about to wash but it catches her attention anyway.

It is a loose paper where there was a very artistic drawing of a girl with – well, Leon didn't know what she had; her jaw was defined, her face was heart-faced, her eyebrows were darker than her hair. She was a normal girl. A plain, normal girl scribbled on a piece of paper. Normal girl on normal paper – yet every line was shaded so carefully; very different than the Doctor's usual stick figures he had used to show her, once upon a time, what his regenerations were like.

New man, new face, same nickname; she swore to him that even if he regenerated that she would stay with him because she loved this life too much to leave for such a silly reason. He looked at her and said, "_Don't say that; not unless you actually have to see it_."

But that was beside the point. This girl, this normal girl, with the word _Rose_ scrawled on the top of the page. Writings of words like _Bad Wolf_ – _forever_ – _gold eyes_ – _love_.

And beneath, right beside her hair, there was the incomplete sentence _she is my s_—.

"Star? Savior? Supergirl? Super-mega-foxy-awesome-hot?" Leon muses aloud; no adjective like 'stinky' or 'skanky' crosses her mind because this girl couldn't be evil. There was a certain reverence in the words that the Doctor had written on this page.

"LEON!" The Doctor's voice comes from down the hall. Leon hastily shoves the paper back in the journal and, before she can hide it, the Doctor walks in.

"Let—what have you got there?" He asks, taking a deeper look at the journal. Leon opens her mouth to respond with 'nothing' despite the voice whispering 'everything' in her mind.

The Doctor's face takes on a whole new expression, darker somehow, more pained, "Did you read that?"

She shakes her head fiercely, certain that if she says 'yes' there will be terrible consequences, "Of course not!"

He knows she's lying. She knows she's lying. But he doesn't push. He merely takes the book out of her arms and tucks it in his pockets. They walk out together and take a trip to the Fiftieth Colony of Jupiter. They have a small adventure, enjoy one another's company, and make tea when they get back. Normal.

And, no matter how many times she tries, Leon can't bring herself to ask what the end of that sentence is supposed to be.

She has a feeling that even he doesn't know.


	20. the stone rose

He stepped into the alternate Universe with a new face, wondering if she'd even recognize him now that he has a bowtie. Leonie stood behind him, biting her nails – uncaring towards the chips of blue nail-polish that were surely filling her mouth. A bad habit of hers, he noticed early on, especially when she smiled and one could see the chips in the crevices of her teeth.

He walked out of the TARDIS, hands tucked in his pockets. Leonie sprinted, from the console, after him and into the bright, parallel world, sun.

"Why have we arrived at," She took a look around, "what looks to be a cleaner version of London?"

The Doctor rolled his bright eyes, "We're just here to find someone and bring them home."

Leonie smiled, gaps in her teeth stained, "Home, TARDIS-home? Or home, Earth, home?"

The Doctor turned his new eyes to Leonie, "Home, TARDIS-home."

They spend three and a half days searching for a trace of the girl he once knew, that he would always love. On the end of the fourth day – after Leonie had turned tide and returned to the TARDIS for some sleep – the Doctor stumbled upon Rose Tyler.

She looked radiant, hair long now and falling gently over her face – her face that was so bright, so happy, a wide smile on it as her eyes seemed to glow stunningly. This was Rose looking her most Rose-like – all hope and love. And she would look that way forever.

The Doctor ran a gentle hand on the marble-statue of his Rose. His long-lost Rose, never to live, love, or hope ever again. Her very spirit encased in stone and the cold distance of marble. Her placard read that she was KIA just two years after he left her. It read of a sweet girl, a loving girl, of a hero. It told nothing of a brilliant girl, of a marvelous girl, of a girl that soared among the stars.

"Rose Tyler," He began softly, "I," His voice broke on the word and his hearts broke in his chest, "_love _you."

The sun set low on the Parallel World, casting a gentle glow upon Rose's bright face, as the Doctor knelt to the ground and cried.


	21. two kids without our jackets

All the things in the Universe that the Doctor and Rose did –

(defeating the Daleks, fighting a werewolf, killing the Gelth, fighting the Raxacoricofallapatorians, gas-mask chil;dren, sealing a Rift, losing and finding each other, crushing the Devil, punishing cat-nuns, killing Cybermen, finding Fathers, losing families, saving, living, loving, hating, fighting, dancing, being the Stuff of Legends, and – _hold on Rose, ROOOOOSE_ – falling, _losing_)

– they never went to Barcelona.


	22. run

"Follow me!" He commanded, and she did not move.

(Follow a stranger into the darkness; trail behind a man in the armor of black shadows she couldn't do it. He was made of shadows and she didn't like shadows, swallowing the light – swallowing hope.)

"Come along." He told her and she refused.

(Too commanding, like he was in charge – she didn't know he was – and she didn't like commanders, people that ordered her around like she was nothing, she wasn't anything. She mattered.)

"Let's go!" He ordered and she said no.

(The question of who he was and why he lumped her in with him and she couldn't answer, wouldn't know that he was the Oncoming Storm and she was the Bad Wolf and they were meant to be together.)

"Pardon me, just saving your life." He cheered and she couldn't trust him.

(Like she was a nuisance, he was just saving her life, she meant nothing but a pound of flesh and a little less guilt in the way of a man who she didn't know. She couldn't know, not yet, not for a long while.)

"Run." He said, eyes like starlight, and she did.

And they never stopped.


	23. greeneyed monster

The Doctor envies himself. His younger self; 10 and 9 – the lucky ones, he calls them. 9 had the meeting, had the promises, had the healing. 10 had the hope, the joy, the 'forever', 10 had the _iloveyou_ (wasted on a beach, on an image). He envies the healed wounds that have reopened now. Now he is all alone, inside his soul, torn from Rose, from hope, from _home_.

(inside the scars begin to bleed)

Eleven never holds Rose.


	24. let me go, against my will

Nothing is worse than a forced regeneration.

His hands lighting up and energy burning him from the inside as his cells die. He is screaming. That is his distant knowledge, that he is screaming and he is burning and this is _death_ but not eternal. This is his temporary death. But it is permanent in another way. It takes his eyes and his hair and his body and makes them different. Makes them strange. He becomes a stranger to himself. He does not know his likes or dislikes or his loves or hates or his habits or his style. He knows nothing.

Nothing but her.

Her name on his lips, her hand in his like it belonged there, and her voice ringing in his ears. This is why he does not want to regenerate. He does not want to lose the body that was made for her. He does not want to lose the hand that fits perfectly with his. He does not want to lose the lips that know hers so well. He does not want to be blonde, red-headed, or a noirette. He wants to be this, he wants to be Ten, because she knows Ten. Ten is her love, her soulmate.

But behind his eyes is Nine. Nine is telling him that she was his too because she was. If she belonged to anyone the most it was Nine and Ten – because they had her and they love her and she is always theirs, forever. Eight and Seven and Six and Five and Four and Three and Two and One all claim her because they are him; they acknowledge her as theirs as much as they are hers. Each of them claim her as theirs, Time Lords were never very good at sharing.

She is what he has always needed and loved. She healed where it hurt and loved where he lost. She becomes _home_ and the TARDIS is _theirs_. But, perhaps, when he is gone he can do what Nine has been doing. He can remind him of the blonde-haired shoppe girl that he loved so desperately. And his hands may not fit hers anymore and his body can become shapes and figures that do not equal her as this body does, but that does not mean she cannot slot herself into him. She can still be his perfect fit. Because she is always his perfect fit.

But he burns away. It is painful, it is always painful. In the end he is sitting in a broken TARDIS, careening to the Earth. But behind his teeth is her name and his hands are no larger nor smaller and there is no reason why she shouldn't fit there still.

He'll hunt for her, one day. He'll go and find her and take her with him again. Because, it seems, this regeneration is not quite as giving as Ten was. And this regeneration wants her with him. He wants the forever she promised.

Yes, one day, he'll find her. But for now he's got to save little Amelia Pond and maybe make her his new companion because she's brilliant – even if she's so tiny, like Susan was once. And still there are cries for his blonde-haired love inside.

His hearts will whisper _rose_ and every one of his regenerations will react. Because he is the Doctor.

And the Doctor will always love his Rose.


	25. nothing can escape it

He feels as though he's walking around a black hole. It's not entirely impossible, he's a madman with a box and black holes are nothing. He knows space like the back of his hand (_but his hands are changing so often and they are the first to change, first to burn_). He knows the inside and out of a black hole, he knows the shift of the planets, and the curves of the stars. Sometimes it feels like he is the Universe – like the lives of people are the spark in his chest that curls and burns inside.

(_he used to know her like that_, _all the lines of her face, and the camber of her lips against his_)

But this black hole is churning, swelling like the mouths of blood-stained cannons. He walks it like he owns it, because he does. He knows this black hole. He knows it because it isn't real. Because it's a shape in his chest as he breathes. It's the beat of hearts that ache with the pressure of everything. His muscles are ripped apart in its empty space. His eyes water with the force of its suction. His eyes always water now.

This is the feeling of love. He knew love, when he was human, and he showed it and expressed it and lost it and it hurt. But it didn't hurt as much as having her and losing her and knowing she was never coming back to him. He could become human for Joan. He couldn't become the Destroyer of the Universe for Rose. No matter how much he wanted to. To pull that lever, turn that button, and have the Universe implode around him as he wrapped his arms around her for those last brief moments of their lives.

So he lives with the black hole. Walks around it during the day and falls in at night. He lives in hell every damn day for the rest of his life because he's the Doctor and he's always all right.

Always all right.

(_he walks on_)


End file.
